


Pretend Like It's a Good Day

by orphan_account



Category: Misfits
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Early Work, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Het and Slash, M/M, Obsession, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Season/Series 01, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:39:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't feel guilty; Nathan wouldn't.</p><p>(Alternate post-season 1 future, Nathan doesn't come back to life.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretend Like It's a Good Day

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 7/13/10.

A few days after Nathan dies, his mum goes to his flat to pick up his things.

The bother is, he doesn't have a flat.

\---

Simon pulls out his phone around the corner from where Kelly is explaining to Mrs. Young about how Nathan was living in the community center. It's clearly a private moment, but the remorse burned across the woman's face is too perfect not to be recorded.

He doesn't really feel bad about. Not any worse than he did about filming Sally sleeping.

As long as no one sees the intimate moments trapped in pixels on his hard-drive, then they don't exist.

He glances at the woman on his screen.

As long as no one sees the dozens of videos that he has of her son — much more than he gave to Kelly —then he doesn't have an obsession.

\---

It's one of the less impressive plans that he's thought-up, but it's the only one he's acted on, and that counts for something.

His knocks are swift; one, two, three, one, two, three, and his knuckles start to burn.

There's no backing out now.

Mrs. Young's smile is faker than the diamonds in her ears, more depressing than any tear she might have shed.

Simon never fakes happiness. No one ever taught him how, and he doesn't have enough real life experience to draw from. So he just stands there, expression as neutral as he can get it, as he speaks the five words that he'd practiced over and over for the last two days and hopes that the duffle bag over his shoulder isn't too conspicuous.

"I'm a friend of Nathan's."

Mrs. Young steps aside, and as Simon walks through the door, there's an unfamiliar taste in his mouth.

Bitter because of the lie, sweet because she believes it.

\---

It looks lived in. More-so than it probably has in months. There's clothes in the wardrobe, magazines on the nightstand, porn not very well hidden in the dresser. Set up how it must have been when Nathan was growing up. It seems a shame that Mrs. Young will most likely pack it all away again in a few days.

But grief is a tricky emotion, and one of the most recognized to Simon of late, so he doesn't judge her need for familiarity.

That's his purpose for being there, after all.

He asks for a moment alone in the room, like they do in mystery films when they want to investigate, except Simon already knows what he's looking for.

He opens the dresser, takes out several shirts and a few pairs of trousers, even grabbing some socks, and folds them neatly into his duffle bag. There are shoes in the wardrobe and he settles on a fairly nice pair, picking them up as well.

The most important piece of clothing isn't there.

Simon thinks it's a waste to have sent the plaid-lined jacket six feet under with Nathan, it's not as if he has any use for it now, but Kelly had insisted.

 _"He died in a suit, Simon. There's no way I'm letting them bury him in one."_

He picks another black jacket off of a hanger, similar enough from a distance, and slips it into the bag.

He nods to Mrs. Young on his way out, his lips not curling at all, and hopes she doesn't notice the missing clothes. But even if she does, the fake name he gave her isn't going to get her very far.

\---

He keeps the clothes under his bed, still in the duffle. Every night for nearly a week, he dresses up in them like they're a super-hero costume and he's about to go save the world.

And every night, he panics just outside his door.

But every night, he tries again.

\---

On the sixth day he finally makes it to a bar.

He saunters up the bar just like Nathan would, smiles at a girl across the pub just like Nathan would, and orders the drink that Nathan would drink.

Like the jacket, Nathan no longer has any need for his confidence or bravado, so Simon doesn't feel bad for borrowing them.

He gives the bartender a cocky grin when he's handed the drink, because everything is going according to plan.

And then she walks over.

She's got blue eyes that shine much too brightly for a place like this, and soft brown curls framing her pointed face. It's the girl from the before, he realizes as she sidles up to him.

"You going to buy me a drink then?"

She's much too pretty for Simon Bellamy, but she's perfect for Nathan Young.

The only problem is, Nathan Young is dead.

Simon remembers this, and suddenly he doesn't know what to say. What would Nathan say? Something clever, something funny, the absolute wrong thing that would somehow be perfect.

But his throat is dry, and all he can do is nod timidly.

The girl takes her drink when it comes and gives him a confused glance, before walking away.

Not a minute later, Simon wraps someone else's jacket tightly around him as he quietly exits the bar.

\---

The flames are half-way down the pant leg before Simon realizes what he's doing. Dropping the burnt out match, he stomps out the fire that leaves several singes across his bedroom floor.

On the seventh day, when he gets ready to go out, he's one pair of trousers short.

\---

It's three more days before he finally gets up the courage to leave his house in Nathan's clothes again.

A different bar this time, a different jacket, but the smile is the same, and it's not his own.

This time, when a girl walks up to him, he charms her easily; talks and laughs and tells her, "Nathan, but Jesus Christ is also fine," when she asks his name. And when her boyfriend comes up and asks him what the hell he thinks he's doing, Simon calls him a twat. And when he's pulled back into the alleyway behind the bar, he doesn't turn invisible and escape, because Nathan can't.

He fights back for the first time in his life. Not very well, mind you, but tonight, he's Nathan Young, so it doesn't matter. After it's over, he pulls himself off of the pavement and stumbles home, huge smile painted across his face.

Simon's taken a fair share of beatings in his life, but that's the only one to date that he's ever enjoyed.

\--

A few weeks pass, and he goes out almost every night.

He makes a couple of friends and several enemies, talks to more girls than he has in his life, and laughs and drinks and finds himself being happy. And when he goes home, he's Simon again, and stays Simon until the next night.

No one notices, no one cares to, and he likes it that way.

He doesn't feel guilty; Nathan wouldn't.

\---

He's at a party, more wild than he's used to, when he spots her.

Some tall bloke is talking to her, and Kelly's looking even more bored than usual, rolling her eyes after every other sentence.

Simon's first instinct is to run, get the hell out of there and hope she doesn't notice him.

Instead, he starts walking in her direction, cheeky grins spreading across his face.

He knows she'll hate him for it, hit him and yell at him, and probably kill him, too, but he's resurrected Nathan, if only for a few hours a night, and he feels like it would be wrong not to share him with Kelly.

\---

She does hit him. Then she kisses him.

Then she cries and pretends that she's not.

Then she hits him again.


End file.
